


Expanding Responsibility

by JojoMojo2



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Butt, Concern, Embarrassment, Female Character, Friendship, Large Butt, Other, Out-growing Clothes, Skirts, Thighs, expansion, help in need, huge thighs, thigh expansion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:15:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29717724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JojoMojo2/pseuds/JojoMojo2
Summary: A life-saving and life-prolonging cure finally meets its conclusion. As with many things, however, it is not without its unintended consequences, and the young empress has a growing problem in store for her.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Expanding Responsibility

Two arms are propped up on an ornate, dark, and deeply grained desk. Slender, they trail up to small, feminine hands which hold a weary and resting head. Distinct, white hair is coiled up into buns on each side of the woman’s head, with stains of brown crawling out from the roots of her scalp. With her eyes closed, she sighs and shakes her head. In the confines of the office, the empress can express a modicum of drowsiness and apprehension that she is unable to show in public. The ruler of an empire has to project an image of power, regardless of how exhausting that is. 

She sighs deeply, shakes her head, and scratches her scalp. A few long strands of hair come back with her hand and she gazes at the differential color with an eager smile. She mutters to herself, twirling the hairs and focusing intently on the brown segment, “At long last, I am free.” The woman curls her head back and lays her hands flat on the desk. Running a hand down smooth arms, her gaze falls on an empty vial, the indicator of her journey’s end. She smiles and picks up the glass, rolling it around in her fingers. 

Empress Edelgard sags in her chair, sliding down and folding her hands over her belly. Closing her eyes again, she presses several fingers into her stomach, feeling how they meet resistance. Her treatments, she felt, had been causing her to gain weight. When she had asked subordinates and random passerby, “Does it look like I am heavier since the past month?” they would usually avoid the topic and deny it entirely, frightened to answer the empress one way or another. Not even the trusted chamberlain Hubert would admit Edelgard had been packing on a few pounds. Despite the outward testimony against the notion, the woman was convinced that she had in fact been filling out.

Still, it may possibly be paranoia feeling this feeling. When one’s problems disappear, new ones rise to take their place. Even so, the empress would gladly take a little extra flesh in exchange for her life being returned to her. Rubbing her face, Edelgard pulls herself back up in the chair, legs gliding against the seat and arms. As the plush thighs drag along, they snag a little, the cloth and buttons catching the wood connecting seat and armrest. She pulls a little harder and the system breaks free easily. Still, she is certain this is not something that had happened before. Rubbing her thighs, the fingers sink in through the layers of crimson fabric, diving deep down. She had never taken much time during the war and subsequent rooting out of evil in the empire to really acknowledge the sensations of her body, but something to her felt distinctly different than it had before. 

A knock from the door rouses the woman as she quickly jumps to attention in her seat. Her expression darkens and bears a serious visage, waiting whatever attendant or aid would be entering soon. “You may come in,” she calls, signaling for the knocker to continue into the chamber. A stunted cough is heard through the door before the wooden barrier slowly swings open and the Imperial chamberlain Hubert von Vestra steps through, his dour face melding with the stark black and sinister robes. In his hands are a heavy bundle of papers, tied together with a plain thread. He bows, hands over the parchments, and addresses his superior, “The latest reports of the frontier settlements near Sreng, your Majesty.” His gaze falls down and he sees the empty vial, well aware of its nature. He smiles at Edelgard and comments, “I see you have finished your final dose, Lady Edelgard. How are you feeling?”

The empress grabs the papers laid on her desk, trying to hide hints of embarrassment from Hubert’s question. Eyes scanning over the documents, she occasionally darts her gaze up to look at her steward. She clears her throat and addresses the inquiry, “I think it has worked. My hair is returning to its original color. I had forgotten what it looked like… I also think my metabolism is slowing down and I’m gaining weight. My… legs got stuck in my chair just before you entered. I know you have not said anything about it, but I need you to be honest, Hubert.” Once she is finished speaking, Edelgard tries to stand up, but her thighs drag on the chair again, causing her to stumble in the motion. With a grunt, she yanks herself out and steps out from behind her desk—she is noticeably a very short woman now that she is no longer sitting. Confined to her office most days, she is wearing a more casual and shorter skirt than her typical cape and formal attire. 

Normally, the hem of her formal dress would reach below her knees, and the current skirt would only fall to just a margin above the joints. However, the fabric is relatively higher, a few inches above her knee—though not yet exposing the border of her stockings. Now standing, it is easy to see a slim belly and slender, muscular arms. Contrastingly, her thighs are wide, pressed firmly against each other and touching every fiber of her comfortable outfit. Though Hubert cannot see it, the back of her skirt is rounded out, an observation the empress had not made for herself. The steward’s dark visage turns away from the sight before him, unable to make eye contact given the very noticeable changes Edelgard had been undergoing rather recently. “Your Majesty, I do not think you have gained weight and I stand by my word. However, it would seem something has changed. Your observation of your legs appears to be correct. Forgive me, it does not feel appropriate for the Imperial Steward to look upon his empress in such a manner.”

An awkward pause follows, with the empress shifting beside her deck—the size and warmth of her burgeoning thighs causing a few beads of sweat to form on her legs—and her attendant looking away with a flush pronounced enough to rival the Empire’s crimson motifs. Eventually, Hubert coughs into a clenched fist, “Does it hurt, your Majesty?” The empress shakes her head and presses her hands into her legs, the appendages sinking in at first before meeting considerable resistance—the flesh is hot and warm, soft yet supple. She shuffles her feet and replies, “No, it doesn’t. I feel... hot.” Hearing her response, Hubert mumbles again, “I… I must confer with Ferdinand. Forgive me, your Majesty, I shall return.” He then hastily turns and exits the room, with Edelgard reaching out trying to stop him. In the end, she is left alone in her office again, swollen thighs and currently ill-fitting clothes her only companion. “Damn’t Hubert, I need you here, not sharing this to others!” she grumbles under her breath, pacing around the room. 

By her lonesome in the office, too concerned with her condition to leave, the empress is left only to explore her new form. The return of her hair color had been a slow process that took months to show progress. Yet, here her legs were growing in the moment, waiting until she had finally finished the treatments to show any sign of occurring. Sighing, Edelgard stumbles back against a nearby wall, the reality she is facing overwhelming her as her chest begins to heave in mild panic. Her hands fall to her side, holding onto her waist, fingers curling around her torso to hold tight to the contours of her body. Closing her eyes, the empress breathes in and begins to explore her lower body. Immediately, her touch feels her hips, wider than they had been the day prior but nowhere near as substantial as her legs. She rolls the fingers back and they sink into her butt, much larger and plusher—enough to hike up her leisure skirt in the back. 

Further, the hands travel down and begin to examine the primary villains in this conflict. Strangely to her observation, the small region connecting the legs to her hips does not appear to be much larger. With a quizzical, raised eyebrow, Edelgard looks down to her legs, moving a leg out and bending the knee to get a better view. Her thighs now have grown considerably—her long stockings are stretching and digging into her skin—and stretch past her torso and hips on each side, both having a notable swell in the middle. Her gentle touch traces the curve of her legs, moving out as the fingers move down, before sliding back closer after cresting the hump and traveling towards the knees. Her rounded and hefty thighs feel hot and tender, with the gentle caressing sending chill pulses up past her hips and groin and through her torso. Shivering, Edelgard bites her lip and instinctively attempts to rub her legs together, legs that now almost permanently touch. She squeezes into the thick mass, strange sensations flowing forth from an area that had previously been far less sensitive. Why does this feel so good? I-I have to keep it together if Hubert is coming back!

As she explores her sensitive thighs, a sharp pain rips through her body, striking from head to toe. She stumbles back into the wall, crying out from the shock and reaching out to catch herself. Holding her eyes shut and breathing with raspy gasps, the empress’ body grows in a sudden wave again. As her thighs swell, the already beleaguered stockings now creak from the strain and her skirt rides higher. The pain in her body fades—excluding the tightening grip of her clothes—and is replaced by a strange, erotic glow. Instinctually, a gravely moan pulls from her mouth, just as the office door opens once more. The Imperial Steward Hubert von Vestra and Imperial Prime Minister Ferdinand von Aegir enter the room, only to be met by the sounds of their empress moaning in pain and shock. With the sound of footsteps and gasps of “Your Majesty!” Edelgard darts her head up, face as brilliantly red as the regal crimson she wears. Both parties stare at each other, the men with mouths open, stunned, and the woman blushing and ashamed. 

“Hubert! Ferdinand! Look away! This isn’t what it looks like!” shouts the empress, her hands glued to her bulky legs and head twisting around to avoid the gazes of the two men. Though her best intentions are to protect her dignity, another wave of growth pulses through her, a cry of pain erupting from her lips as she falls to the ground, biting her lip to dull the burning sensations. Her flesh swells rapidly—a much greater rate than she had previously experienced—and the burgeoning tissue is sharp and hot to her nerves, groans and cries piercing through gritted teeth. After a few moments, her troubled stockings can no longer contain the mass and are rent apart with a shrill tear of tense fabric jumping apart. Meanwhile, Hubert and Ferdinand are only able to stare aghast at the sight of their liege’s sudden swelling, unable to move themselves through their awe and shock. 

By now, the expanding girth of Edelgard’s thighs push each other apart, unable to be held tight in her sitting position. Her skirt is fully forced back. Revealing a pair of pale blue and simple panties that are barely noticeable amidst the sea of flesh growing around them. A few tears trail from the empress’ eyes, the pain mixing with earlier pleasure in a confusing barrage of sensation and emotion. Finally coming to their sense, both men rush to Edelgard’s side, holding onto her shoulders to steady and comfort her. “Edelgard! What is happening? Is this your doing, Hubert?” questions Ferdinand. Hubert shakes his head, solemn grimace expressing his helplessness, “No. I believe this is a side effect of her treatments. I don’t know why nothing like this would have occurred until she finished, but this is the situation we have.” While her two advisors discuss the matter, the empress rests—held by each of them—with occasional, hoarse sobs or groans dribbling out. For several minutes, the three watch as Edelgard’s thighs continue to expand, wide even at the joint but spreading out into an incredible swell in the center. Eventually, the burning pulsations in her body fade, leaving only a dull, throbbing pain in her lower half—the growth concluding with each thigh approximately the width of her waist. Exhausted, the woman sags forward, and mutters with a gravely voice, “I think it’s over… I am thirsty, please get water.”

With an unspoken nod, both Hubert and Ferdinand jump up from beside Edelgard and rush out of the room to fetch supplies to care for the drained woman. Alone again in her office, the empress opens her eyes to take in her new form and she stretches her hands out to massage the masses of flesh. Her fingers sink into the soft thighs a couple inches before meeting hard resistance—seemingly both fat and muscle have expanded, though the proportions are no longer totally lean—with waves rippling out after sudden movements. With her legs stretched out on the floor, the skin spreads along the regal carpet instead of being neatly maintained like her prior form had been. The plush thighs are tender and sensitive, picking up every moment from the woman’s delicate fingers as sensual pressure wells up from the contact points. As she had done earlier, a few instinctual moans pull from the gentle touches, new erogenous zones making themselves apparent. A few moments pass of her massaging before she drops her hands on the larger center and sighs, grumbling to herself, “This is the price I pay for getting my life back.”

A couple minutes pass by the empress as she attempts to restrain the new, intense feelings coursing through her expanded body. She is tired and weary—eyes fluttering shut to sleep from exhaustion—before the office door creaks open, with two hands poking through. Looking up to her faithful advisors, she ushers them in, as they come in and offer her water and a small cake. The two men dote on the empress relentlessly, badgering her with questions ranging from her safety to her plans moving forward. Exhausted, Edelgard shrugs them off and tries to stand, bracing her hands on Hubert and Ferdinand’s shoulders. Though her legs have more muscle than prior, her weakness paired with the new weight of her thighs and butt make it difficult to stand—only able to rise with wobbling legs and the assistance of her confidants. Now upright, the failure of her clothes is even more apparent. Her short skirt now rides above her hips all around, glimpses of panty showing through enclosing, smooth tissue. Hubert throws his cloak around the empress to hide her as he and Ferdinand escort her through the halls back to her chambers. With much arguing and assurance, Edelgard finally convinces her aides to leave her in peace for now, only to bring meals or messages for the time being.

Finally alone and in private, the empress can relax and sort through the tumult of emotion and sensation raging through her body. She backs up to her bed and falls onto it, flopping without the grace of a ruler. Her massive thighs keep her from lying normally, the spreading masses push each other apart and stress the bed—the weight straining a bed meant for a much smaller woman. With a groan, Edelgard unbuttons her top, slipping out of it, and folding it neatly next to her pillow. Staring down at her lower half and gulping, the empress first removes her tattered socks and then—with a few grunts—manages to tug her skirt over her thighs, the fatty and soft inches of tissue making way for them to push into it and cross over. Naked and resting on her comfortable bed, the woman is finally able to notice the sharp pressure of her panties swallowed up by her flesh and digging into the joints and skin. They are so tight, it is a struggle just for Edelgard to wrap her fingers around the taut fabric. She pulls down on the garment, unable to move it from its spot. Expression paling, the empress’ breathing turns ragged as she represses a sudden panic. Instead, she calls with a renewed need, “Hubert! Get Dorothea!”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey hey! This is the last piece I have written from last year and never posted. I hope you enjoyed reading this, and everything shared after this will all be new work! As always, if you wish to contact me, my email is jojomojo2author@gmail.com.


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